Tales of Love & Cruelty

Chapter 2

Valentine’s Night

Finally, I’m going to have my chance to do what I’ve always dreamed of!

My previous husband and I split up two years ago because he got sick of my pestering, and I got totally fed up with his obstinate refusals. This time I’ve played my cards properly though. I gave my new guy Terry no hint of my secret fetish whatsoever throughout all eight months of careful courtship, and three more of doting marriage. In all that time he’s been sweet and sensitive and always eager to please, completely compliant in everything. I’m convinced he’s going to become my perfect mate. He even gave me the ideal opening by asking me what I wanted most for Valentine’s Day.

“I want you,” I tenderly replied. “That’s all. No flowers, no chocolates. I just want to make love to you in my own sweet way, for one entire night. I want you to do anything I ask, to pamper me and please me and submit to my slightest s****l whim all evening.”

“Well, that will be my best present too!” Terry fervently averred. “I love making you happy. If you’re happy then I’m happy, and that’s no lie. You know I’ve always found you madly attractive, Cammie. Your eyes are so green, your hair so long and full and curly and bright Irish red! I love every freckle on your cream-white body. I especially love the way they speckle the slopes of your beautiful breasts. I love the cute little carrot patch at your crotch, I love your long elegant legs, I love your flat little belly, I love your tight little ass, and I love your lovely face most of all. I love every single bit of you!”

Touched by this gushing I blushed. Still I couldn’t help the sneaky thought that darted across my mind: how I loved, and would love to love, his tight little ass! Hiding that ultimate intention though, I kissed him and made all the appropriate responses, even down to f*****g him extra vigorously that night. Then I set about my secret preparations.

First I went shopping of course, buying the hard actuality of our mutual gift. Then I arranged with my friend Lisa the loan of her vacation cabin for the weekend.

This is a private love-nest the envy of anyone.

And bless me, lord, here we finally find ourselves last! Terry has made a wonderful dinner for us, and even offered to clean up after while I get ready for my big night. I’m wildly excited as I do; in fact I’m actually trembling with eagerness as I arrange a few surprises and then change clothes.

My new lingerie is skimpy almost to the point of non-existence.

A rich purple silk, the panties are nothing but a g-string and the bra just a pair of ruffled triangles framing my breasts. A wide matching ribbon is snuggled about my throat and that’s it. No stockings come between me and my high heels – that’s not in the plan. With my heart pitty-patting livelier than ever, I pick up the bag with my new purchases in it and slip back into the spacious living room.

This place belongs to Lisa’s husband. It’s not big; yet it’s everything any loving couple could ever need. Solidly constructed of huge redwood logs it’s just three and a half rooms. There’s a combined kitchen and dining area, a master bedroom and bath (complete with Jacuzzi and a sumptuous feather bed), and that biggest, best room of all: the main living area. The couch and chairs are worn yet perfectly comfortable, the hangings on the walls charming and rustic, and the best furnishing of all lies before the enormous stone fireplace: a luxuriant bearskin rug.

Terry of course thoughtfully kindled a roaring blaze as soon as we arrived. As I kneel to conceal my biggest surprise for him behind the woodpile, this thick soft pelt is already delightfully toasty beneath me. More aroused and anticipatory by the minute, I quickly get up and slink as sexily as possible into the kitchen.

Bless him: Terry doesn’t even see me yet. Finished with his domestic duties he’s screwing a big magnum of champagne into an ornate ice bucket. On the same tray two flutes stand ready, a box of chocolates is already open, and a bouquet of long-stemmed roses is artfully arrayed in a crystal vase.

That dear, delightful boy has gotten me flowers and candy anyway! Of all the possible treats he is surely the sweetest! Taking advantage of his distraction I drape myself against the door frame, presenting as lovely and seductive a sight as I can. He picks up the tray, turns, and almost drops it at the sight of me.

“Oh my God! Cameron you look unbelievably breathtaking! How did I ever earn a moment’s time with an incredible lady like you?”

“You are about to do so,” I purr. “Come in before the fire with me. Let’s see if we can put those flames to shame!”

“Of course, my love!” he gasps. “Anything for you, beautiful! Anything at all!”

Anything for me? Anything at all?

Oh great benevolent heaven, that’s all I’ve ever wanted from a man! Suddenly thoughts of blindfolds, silk scarves and lovingly applied switches swirl through my mind. Reluctantly I push them aside. Time enough for all of that later. Tonight is all about that first irrevocable step; that incredible consummation I’ve always dreamed about, plotted for, and at last am about to finally enjoy. Smiling enticingly at wonderful Terry I slowly turn, flashing my bare back and ass at him and beckoning him coquettishly after me.

With my beloved in tow I move back into the living room and stretch languorously out on that thick hot fur. Terry kneels next to it, sets the tray down and looks dutifully to me for further instruction.

“Fabulous,” I breathe. “Absolutely fabulous! Now take off your clothes for me. I want to see you utterly naked except for the flickering firelight.”

Adorably self-conscious he slowly strips. Down to the last sock he makes it last despite his obvious discomfort, clearly knowing this is what I want. Then once again he kneels obediently next to me, wonderfully humble in every respect except one.

Terry’s c**k is as eagerly hard as I’ve seen it. Yet this night is all about me and mine, not him and his. Still, unable to ignore this impertinence I stroke it lightly up and down, inflamed more than ever by the hungry way it bobs.

“Pour us drinks boy,” I husk. “Then toast your beloved lady.”

Like a professional he complies, popping the cork without losing a drop and then filling us both up frothing flutes. He nods respectfully as he hands me mine, and then raises his own.

“Here is to you: my perfect woman, the lady I will love forever no matter what; the most exquisite epitome of her kind I could ever hope to find. Please grace me with your glorious favor forever! Let us find in tonight’s ecstasy a template we may replicate throughout all eternity!”

Bemusedly, I raise my glass wonderingly.

Naturally Terry has no idea of the import of his flowery words. But they are so obviously prophetic that I must accept them as indisputable sanction.

“So be it!” I cry. Then sealing the deal I clink his glass. Downing that delicious draught I am suddenly utterly convinced that nothing can possibly stand in the way of my carefully laid plans. Filled with renewed zeal I set my flute down and spread myself out.

That thick fur is so luxuriously warm and soft that I stretch and squirm and writhe my naked backside erotically against it, moaning wonderfully at the sensation. Encouraged Terry moves to join me, but I stop him short with an upraised palm.

“No, my love. I like you just the way you are: on your knees. Kneel there respectfully before me and feed me sweets on this, my very own special night.”

Smiling shyly he obeys, conveying chocolates to my mouth with his fingertips.

I savor each one slowly, occasionally ordering him to pour champagne into my mouth directly from the bottle. Soon I see that the heat of the fire is softening the chocolate considerably, almost to the point of melting. Forestalling Terry again I choose one for myself. Then grinning at his almost drooling reaction I rub it against my n*****s until it disintegrates, leaving my nips and fingertips thickly smeared with warm gooey chocolate. I hold my hand out to be cleaned, and he humbly kneels there and sucks it off my finger and thumb. Then I beckon him closer.

“Lean over here,” I breathe. “Clean the rest of me.”

Still kneeling properly he bends forward, kowtowing worshipfully toward me like a Moslem facing Mecca. First I feel his breath, and then the gentle stroking of his tongue. Finally his lips fasten to the sensitive tip of my tit and he sucks the chocolate off me.

Oh how my n****e hardens in his mouth! When he moves on to do the other one it tingles coolly in the warm room, and I have no choice but to raise a hand and pinch and fondle it myself. Meanwhile I place my other hand on the back of Terry’s head and hold it in place, ensuring that he continues to service me. This he does, sucking dutifully at me just as I’ve taught him, with long, hard, slowly sustained pulls. Moaning in heavenly joy I lie back and let my breasts be beautifully pleasured, as the fire crackles on and the rest of the chocolates melt gradually away. Then finally other parts of me need worshipping.

“Okay honey, that’s enough. Now I want you to kneel at my feet. Take off my shoes, and give me a foot massage.”

“I…I’ve never done that!” he timidly warms me.

“Then learn,” I simply reply. “I won’t whip you or anything.”

Terry smiles uneasily at this. And again scenes of doing just that flash through my mind. Yes, some day I must certainly start carrying out that fantasy too. But not tonight – this night is all about love, not discipline. And while the two can hardly be separated, it will surely take my dear Terry some serious time and persuasion to finally appreciate that fact. So rather than withdraw a long-stemmed rose from the vase and whip him bloody with the velvety bloom and thorny shaft, I merely smile benign encouragement as he moves to my feet and carefully removes my shoes. Then he begins, and despite his initial ineptness it is heaven all over again.

This is another exquisite pleasure I’ve long dreamed of and yet been denied. Of course it’s not in the same league as tonight’s main event. But it’s clearly something else I must train my husband to submit to performing for me at my every whim. And luckily it doesn’t appear this will be difficult. He quickly develops an affinity for the task. Indeed he seems exalted to be touching me in this wonderfully intimate fashion. Looking up at my every moan of appreciation, carefully calibrating my response to each new approach, he constantly refines his technique with an eagerness to please that is madly gratifying.

Whether he knows it or not, Terry is already a slave to my satisfaction. Though no one has touched it in nearly an hour, his p***s is still emphatically erect. Serving me, worshipping my body, is madly arousing to him in and of itself. This is made even more obvious when he finally finds the initiative to kiss the foot he’s so fervently fondling.

Hearing no objection he does so again and again, a happy little whimper escaping him. Finally he moves to suck on the toes, and I happily instruct him further.

“That’s right, honey. Clean them now. Bathe my feet from heel to toe with your tongue. Get deep into every little crease. Suck each toe clean and pristine as can be. Show me how much you love and adore obeying me!”

There’s no question that he does. Moaning with excitement he dives joyously into this chore. Happily lapping like a puppy at a puddle, he bends uncomfortably forward to clean me, rather than lifting my perfectly formed foot to his face. Indeed I can’t help but giggle as he goes about this, and not just from the tickling. I think by enslaving him to do this and so much more every day I will be fulfilling him even more than myself!